


Something More

by Calyah



Series: Abelas/Ellya Lavellan Drabbles [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4673927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calyah/pseuds/Calyah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken card game provides Abelas with some insight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was "Abelas/Ellya Lavellan + drunken kiss".

He should not have imbibed so heavily. Of that much, Abelas was certain. The strange cards blurred before his eyes, as he shuffled them uncertainly in his hands, faces and numbers shifting into unfamiliar patterns. 

He had simply desired some company, a chance to better acquaint himself with his new companions, but he was sorely unused to his body's limitations. So long had he spent in stasis that the strong influence of the tavern's ale took him by surprise and the need for caution went unheeded.

"Your move, Grandpa, unless you've forgotten the rules already." Varric, the rambling dwarf, chuckled and raised his mug to signal the barmaid for another round. "I'd understand, though," he continued, his mocking words floating to Abelas' ears, "Maybe you just need a nap. Shake loose all those cobwebs up there."

Abelas looked up from his hand with what he hoped was a stern glare, but the hazy and tilting atmosphere of the room made him unsure. 

"Oh, look, you've made him go all dour again." That was the Tevinter shemlen, Dorian, sitting across the small table to his left.

Abelas cleared his throat. "Do not mistake my many years for senility, durgen'len," he said with a scowl. "I mastered more skills while I slept, than you will fumble at in an entire lifetime."

Varric folded his cards into one hand and let out a bellowing laugh. "Is that why you've been staring at your hand like a confused baby bronto? All those skills cluttering your brain." 

The fog of the alcohol allowed fondness to seep past his annoyance, and a smirk pressed across Abelas' lips. He liked these two men. Despite their crude and teasing manners at times, they did not regard him any different than the others in their retinue. 

Slapping whatever card he could first grab onto the table, Abelas opened his mouth to offer a retort, but a fourth presence arrived and interrupted his thoughts. 

"What're you three up to over here?" Ellya's voice was light and her smile radiant as she leaned over Abelas' shoulder, mug of ale tipping precariously in one hand. Her fingers of the other slid casually against the back of his chair and Abelas straightened, suddenly very aware of each clumsy movement of his buzzing limbs.

"Just the usual," Dorian said, laughing and grasping her wrist to urge her into the chair next to his, "drinks, games, witty repartee." He looked pointedly between Abelas and Varric and laid down a card. "The ever present stench of humiliation and shameful defeat."

Varric groaned and Abelas tried to focus his vision on the table, but the sway of the room and the loud minstrel's song made concentration difficult. 

"I swear you're cheating, Sparkler." 

Ellya laughed as Dorian gathered the cards and began shuffling the deck. 

"Deal me in," she said after taking a sip of her beer and setting it aside. "What are we playing for? I don't see any coin."

Abelas felt the tips of his ears grow warm in embarrassment. The choice of stakes had relied solely on his severe lack of funds, but Varric quickly intervened. 

"Money between friends' never a good idea," he said casually and began picking up the cards that Dorian doled out. "We're playing for dares."

Ellya narrowed her eyes and reordered the cards held loosely in her fingers. "Dares?"

Leaning towards her with a conspiratory glance, Dorian smirked. "Indeed, and we've had some wonderful displays." He placed the rest of the deck between them and shrugged towards Abelas. "Did you know that our ancient friend here can down a whole mug of Cabot's Dragon's Brew in thirty seconds?"

Abelas felt his cheeks heat as Ellya turned to him with an appraising glance, but he quickly cut in. "Or that in recompense the Tevinter demonstrated for the tavern quite a jovial dance?"

"Beginner's luck on your part," Dorian snapped back with a laugh. 

"Fancy pants got a standing ovation," Varric said between chuckles and turned to Dorian with a sweeping hand gesture. "Preened like a peacock."

"I'm sorry I missed it," Ellya said, her eyes mischievous before she took another long draft of her drink. 

"You're in luck, my dear." Dorian's smile grew very wide as he wrapped an arm around Ellya's shoulders. "I've just won this round, and I deem the next dare to be ladies' choice." 

"If that's the case," she said. Abelas watched as her gaze slid slowly across each of their faces, a secretive smirk gracing her features, until her eyes landed squarely him, "Abelas." His name on her lips caused his breath to catch, and Ellya's smile widened. "Have you ever heard Varric sing?"

Whatever he had expected her to say, it surely was not that, and he found a strong laugh bubbling up his throat. "No," he said, his mind buzzing with delight, "however, I think I should like to."

"Watch yourself, Grandpa." Varric said with a grumble. 

"You heard the lady." Dorian leaned back in his chair, his smile practically beaming with mirth. 

With a grimace and a harrumph, Varric tossed back the rest of his drink and pushed his chair away from the table with an indignant scrape. 

In the end, Abelas couldn't be certain which event he found more amusing: the image of the disgruntled dwarf mumbling along with the minstrel's song or the minstrel's surprise and encouragement at his attempt. 

The evening pressed on after that, with laughter and stories shared over the cards. Drinks kept flowing and the friendship and community that abounded in the small tavern left Abelas feeling warm. He had never imagined he would find comfort in the profane, and certainly not in such strange circumstances: communion no longer with spirits and gods and priests, but rather with all manner of races and earthly indulgences. It was oddly freeing. 

"Aha! Finally!" Varric shouted over the din of the room, "Time to pay up, kindling!"

Abelas watched, his head feeling light and fuzzy, as Varric spread his cards face up across the table. 

With a groaning chuckle, Ellya slapped the dwarf's shoulder and tossed her own hand haphazardly down. "Don't start with that nickname again, Varric." 

"Whatever you say," he replied, his voice falsely placating as he grinned and looked around, "but I owe you," he jabbed a thumb towards Abelas, "and curmudgeon over here a little payback."

Abelas laughed and swayed. "Your misfortunes were hardly my doing."

Varric turned to him and sloshed his ale accusingly. "An idle participant's still guilty, but nice try."

"All right, Varric," Ellya cut in, "name your price."

Steepling his fingers, Varric leaned back in his chair and smirked. "I could use a little inspiration for my next romance serial. Ellya why don't you go over there and give Grandpa a big fat kiss."

Abelas felt all the color drain from his face. He could not be serious. 

"Varric..." Ellya's voice was a warning, but it seemed to go unheard. 

"You knew the rules when you decided to play," Dorian interjected with a nudging elbow to her side. "Besides, you two could use a good kiss. All frowns and serious glances all the time."

"Fine," Ellya said, her eyes narrowing and her shoulders straightening. Abelas felt his heart stutter, as a slow smirk spread across her lips and she turned her gaze towards him. 

His mouth went dry. His palms splayed against his thighs under the table, trembling and suddenly unable to keep still. He'd be lying to himself if he'd said he hadn't thought of kissing her before, but he had never imagined it like this: inebriated and on the whim of a challenge, nor with such a mocking audience. 

Ellya rose from her chair, her eyes never leaving his as she slinked slowly towards him. The room seemed to spin and shift, his vision unable to focus on anything but the sway of her hips and the darting of her tongue as it wet her lips. 

Abelas was sure he heard Dorian and Varric laugh, but the noises of the tavern fell away when Ellya reached his side. As she bent towards him, the smell of her, of campfires and wildflowers, invaded his senses and his breath hitched. Abelas blinked rapidly trying to focus. It wasn't right, his mind screamed, even as his body leaned towards her. 

One by one, Ellya placed her hands against his cheeks and smiled. His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest and he closed his eyes, waiting. 

But in the next moment, he felt her lips, full and strong, land with a loud smack against his forehead before she pulled quickly back.

Abelas' eyes opened sluggishly, confused. 

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Varric scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. 

Abelas just looked at Ellya standing over him, one of her hands resting on his back, her thumb stroking softly. Despite a tinge of disappointment, he felt relieved. 

"Well," Ellya began with a hand on her hip, "unless you'd like to walk across the battlements completely nude the next time I win a hand, you'll keep the sexual dares off the table."

Dorian and Varric erupted into laughter, and Abelas found himself quickly joining in. 

"Fair enough!" Varric said between chuckles. "Come on, Sparkler, help me get another round from the bar."

As Varric and Dorian left, Ellya settled herself back into her own chair across the table. 

"I'm sorry," she said with a small smile, "I'd rather not be used as fodder for Varric's creativity." She began gathering the cards and shuffling them into a neat pile. "And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Her tone was light, but even through the haze of his thoughts, Abelas could hear the question in her words. Perhaps he was not the only one who had entertained notions of a kiss between them. 

Feeling the alcohol fuel his bravado, Abelas leaned across the table. "I was not uncomfortable, save for the public nature of the demand." Ellya stopped her shuffling to stare at him intently. Abelas wet his lips and lowered his voice further. "Perhaps," he began in a whisper, "when we are alone and both sober enough to remember it, I could ask you to pay your debts more properly."

Before Ellya had a chance to respond to his words, Varric and Dorian returned to the table, four mugs of fresh ale in hands. 

"Shall we continue?" Dorian asked.

Abelas sat back into his chair and watched as a slight blush and tug of an impish smile formed across Ellya's features. 

"Yes," she replied.

She may have directed her affirmation towards the Tevinter mage, but her eyes never left his and that told Abelas all he needed to know. 

He looked down as the cards were dealt and the laughter and stories began anew, a welcome sensation joining the alcohol-induced warmth of his limbs. 

The smile pressed once again across his lips. 

He could never have imagined it when he set out after the fall of the Temple of Mythal, but he found himself on the precipice of being truly happy for the first time in a long while

A new life, with new friends and experiences. And perhaps something more. He could not think of anything better.


	2. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellya thinks about the changes that have come to Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to ‘Something More”. This is also a prompt fill for tumblr user commandercousland and tumblr user chocochipbiscuit who both requested “Ellbelas + slow-dancing”. Frieda belongs to commandercousland and the idea of Harding knowing tons of bawdy drinking songs belongs to chocochipbiscuit. Hope you enjoy!

The great hall was quiet now. With the disbanding of the Inquisition, the passing dignitaries and gossiping nobles had long stopped making their appearances. Where there once stood four great banquet tables, filled to the edges with foreign delicacies and hearty comfort food alike, now only one remained, its surface sparse and worn. Even the great hearth had grown cold and unused. To outside eyes, it would seem as if the mighty command post of Skyhold, seat of the Herald of Andraste, had been brought low, but Ellya knew better.

Where others might see an absence of power in the dais devoid of a throne, Ellya only saw relief and a relinquishment of duty that should never have been hers. Where others might see a lack of influence in her bare tables, Ellya only saw intimacy and the family who had chosen to remain. 

Taking in a deep breath and wrapping her dressing robe around her waist, Ellya made her way across the dark and silent room. As she padded quietly up the stone steps and across the walkway that looked over the hall, her fingers trailed absently along the banister and she took in the silence, content. With a smile, she thought of the changes brought to Skyhold. So much had happened since Corypheus’ defeat and the subsequent disbanding of the Inquisition, and while she had felt adrift for a time, she could recognize the beauty in her circumstances. It was a change of seasons of sorts, a rejoicing in the stark clean slate of winter and the potential new life that awaited in the spring.

Continuing her stroll, Ellya approached the balcony that jutted out over the courtyard. The light of the moon was bright and added a peaceful serenity to the scene, as Ellya leaned against the balustrade and turned her eyes towards the tavern. Cheers sounded loudly across the night, followed closely by calls for more drinks, and Ellya couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled past her lips. No doubt Bull and the Chargers were rousing the tavern for a song and games, Krem making eyes at the pretty barmaid Frieda. Or perhaps Varric and Dorian had coerced Abelas into another game of cards and all three were in the midst of their ever present battle of snark and wit. Or maybe even Sera and Lace were testing each other once again in who knew the most bawdy drinking song. She would join them later, as she often did, but for the time being, she felt happy to simply observe and let the music and revelry wash over her as she enjoyed the solitude of the night. Skyhold had become a home to her, not the one she had asked for, nor in a form she could ever have imagined, but it was hers nonetheless and, despite all she had lost in its place, she could only feel content. 

A streak of light flashed across her vision and the raucous sounds of the tavern blared in her ears. Ellya shifted her gaze and watched as three figures walked out into the empty courtyard.

“I said I’m fine.” Dorian’s voice floated up to the balcony.

“Is that why you stumble?” That was Abelas and Ellya shifted so she could peer down at them.

“I certainly don’t need an escort,” Dorian grumbled.

Ellya watched with a bemused smirk as Abelas let go of Dorian’s arm and slid into stride behind him. 

“Should’ve quit while you were ahead, Sparkler!” Varric called with a mocking laugh over his shoulder as the three made their way towards the stone stairwell that lead the main hall.

Ellya grinned in fondness, as she watched the three climb the stairs, their new comfortable friendship surrounding them. 

“Points for cleverness, I’ll give the old man that,” Dorian slurred and waggled his finger back towards Abelas. 

Leaning forward and resting her elbows against the balustrade, Ellya giggled. All three men turned to stare up at her at the sound.

“Find something amusing, do you?” Dorian called. Varric waved a cheerful greeting and continued to lope up the stairs, mug of ale still in hand.

“Not at all!” Ellya kept her tone teasing. “I would never laugh at you.”

With a suffering sigh, Dorian swayed and turned towards the hall. “Well, don’t blame me. Your ancient friend here is the one responsible. He's become surprisingly adept at bluffing.”

Abelas met her gaze and she could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smirk cross his lips. It caused a strange tightness to settle in her heart and a flutter of nerves to travel across her stomach. She tilted her head and stared down at him, curious.

“Perhaps you're just overconfident?” Ellya responded, tearing her gaze from Abelas and settling it back to Dorian. 

Dorian scoffed. “Hardly. I think he cheats.” He swayed up another two stairs. “Or it's a conspiracy against me!” He pointed an accusing finger at Varric.

“Just admit you lost the hand and had to pay up.” Varric chuckled and sloshed his mug towards Dorian. “We've all been there.”

Dorian huffed again but grumbled something Ellya couldn't quite hear. 

“Come on. Let's make sure you don't fall and break your pretty neck on the way to your room.” Varric pulled on Dorian’s coat and Abelas moved behind them before glancing back up at her.

Chuckling again, Ellya nodded at him and watched as the three disappeared into the hall, the voices of Dorian and Varric, and occasionally Abelas, echoing quietly at her back.

Taking in a deep breath, Ellya turned her attention back to the sky and listened to the continued cheer of the tavern. The night air felt good against her skin and she closed her eyes, pondering the sounds of her new life.

Skyhold was not the only thing to have changed in the past several months. Abelas, too, had transformed. When he had first arrived, sorrow clung to him without relent, his name a fitting moniker for his life. But now, in the company of new friends and a new purpose, it was like he had shed some of his hurt. A small light could be seen past the shadows that lingered in his eyes. A smile and a tease could be heard past the melancholy that had so long been in his voice. It intrigued Ellya. And she had to admit, too, that her own sadness had been lessened by his presence. In their grief, they had formed a connection, and in each other’s company, they had formed hope. It was a hope that one day things could be better and the pain of the past could be dulled.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her from her reverie.

Ellya smiled as she glanced over her shoulder. Abelas padded softly to her side, his blue robe fluttering in the slight breeze, and settled his hip against the balcony.

“You have been out here some time.” He said quietly and dipped his head to look down at her.

“Oh? Have you been keeping tabs on me?” she asked with a tease, and smiled triumphantly when she saw his cheeks redden and his gaze slip away. Nudging him with her shoulder, she nodded her head towards the tavern. “I was just enjoying the night. And thinking of all the changes in my life.” She side-eyed him. “And in you.”

Abelas furrowed his brow and turned to face her fully. “In me?”

“Yes,” she replied and considered him, “you seem much more content these days.” She gestured again towards the tavern. “Your card games with Varric and Dorian. Your tending to the harts in the stable. Even your training with the soldiers. I see the sadness fading in you and it makes me happy.”

A crooked smile formed across Abelas lips and he leaned towards her. “Now I must wonder if it is you who is keeping the tabs.” 

Ellya let out a loud laugh at his tease and grinned. “Well, at least I’ll admit to it.” She looked him up and down slowly. “And I can't help it if my eyes notice things,” she said, her tone purposefully flirtatious. Her heart thudded almost painfully in her chest at her own boldness, but she was done hiding her affection.

Abelas’ fingers twitched against the stone railing, but he pursed his lips and turned his body away. “Ma serannas. Your eyes do not lie. I have become at ease with my existence here.” He glanced at her before quickly turning away. The light-hearted tone in his voice had turned serious and detached, causing Ellya to frown. She didn't understand how he could flirt with her and even once very brazenly ask for a kiss from her in his drunkenness, but then shy away when she expressed interest in return.

With a quiet sigh, she turned and followed his gaze to the stars. They stood in a silence for several moments. Ellya felt awkward and slightly rebuffed, but she didn’t wish to push him. Still, she was frustrated. 

Suddenly, Maryden’s low voice filled the courtyard, a slow tune echoing along the stone walls.

“Oh!” Ellya gasped as she recognized the song. “She hasn’t sung this one in a while.” She glanced at Abelas and noticed his confusion. “Last time I heard this, she was singing it in my chambers. You hear the swell and ebb? It has a very easy and soothing beat. She, Josephine, and Dorian were trying to teach me the shemlen dances for our visit to Halamshiral.”

Ellya smiled at the memory of Dorian gently swaying her in his arms as she had tried to place her feet just right. And of Dorian cursing when she had accidentally tripped over his toes. 

“That is hard to imagine,” Abelas said, the slight humor easing back into his tone.

Ellya narrowed her eyes at him before grasping his hand and tugging him towards the center of the balcony. “Let me show you, then.” She smiled at his incredulous look. “I won’t step on your feet.” She bit her lip. “I hope.”

“I do not dance,” Abelas grumbled. But, despite the slight hesitation in his words, one of his hands settled at the bend in her waist and the other went palm to palm with her own.

Feeling her heart flutter at their close proximity, Ellya swallowed and placed her hand on his shoulder. She could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his robes, the firm strength of his muscles flexing beneath her palm.

She took in a quick breath and began to move. “Just follow my lead,” she murmured, suddenly very aware of him and the feel of his fingers resting just above her hip.

Abelas scrunched his brows and looked down at their feet, his expression the epitome of focus. They turned in time, the music guiding them as they swayed. One step to the left. Pivot. Another two steps to the right. Then, a slow turn. Ellya tried to concentrate, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off Abelas’ face nor could she ignore how nice it felt to be held in his arms. Her heart beat faster as his hand curled tighter around her waist to hold her steady through the turns.

The music continued on around them, the lulling tune keeping time with their movements. Ellya stepped left once more and her hand moved almost involuntarily to caress the muscles across Abelas’ back, her fingertips stroking the fabric of his robe as she pressed closer to him.

Abelas let out a choked cough and his step hitched. Without warning, his foot tripped over hers and they both went stumbling backwards. A surprised yelp escaped her lips, and Ellya’s arms flew around Abelas’ neck. Fortunately, one of Abelas’ arms hooked around her waist and the other braced against the stone balustrade to save them from a fall. 

Abelas looked down at her, worried, his face mere inches away. 

“Are you all right?” He asked, but did not move. “I apologize,” he stammered and reddened. “My feet are clumsy. They were made for the dance of battle and not for songs.” 

Ellya barely heard his words. She was too lost in the feel of his breath on her cheek, the tight squeeze of his arm around her waist, and could only see the appealing curve of his mouth that was so enticingly close. 

“When are you going to ask me?” She blurted out. 

Abelas frowned and quickly stood them both upright. “Ask you?” He questioned slowly, obviously confused. 

“You said you would ask me to pay my debts properly, but you haven't,” she whispered and watched as his eyes widened in understanding. His gaze darted to her lips and Ellya felt impulse take over. 

Curling her fingers into the front of his robe, she stood on her toes and tugged him forward.

It was a gentle thing, a mere whisper of a kiss, as she pressed her mouth to his. His lips were soft and the smell of him, earth and mint soap, filled her nostrils and drew her closer. She slanted her mouth and tested his response, but Abelas stiffened against her touch. 

Ellya quickly pulled back and dipped her head, embarrassed at her rash and clearly unwanted actions.

“I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly and uncurled her hands from his robes. Her thoughts became fuzzy and she wished nothing more than to flee from her misreading of the situation. Trying to hide her disappointment, she made to turn away. 

“No.” Abelas’ arm tightened around her waist and held her still. “Do not apologize.”

In the next instant, his lips were back on hers. Abelas cupped her face and tilted his head, capturing her mouth with raw passion and resolve, no longer a gentle tease of a kiss. Ellya moaned and curled her fingers once again into his robes. He tasted warm, with spice and ale lingering on his lips, and his body was solid and hot against her, the sensation of his touch causing desire to pool low in her belly. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Ellya stood once more on her toes and leaned against him, anything for more contact. As she opened her lips, Abelas’ tongue pressed forward, caressing and exploring her mouth, and she met it with equal fervor. Lips and tongues and nipping teeth met in a frenzy, the latent desire that had been simmering between them finally boiling over.

Abelas moaned and twined both hands roughly into her hair, as she pulled back and drew his bottom lip into her mouth. Their bodies slid and pressed against each other. Their breaths mingled and it was such a sweet release. Finally, after so many months of wondering, they were in each other’s arms.

“Ugh!” A disgusted cry sounded across the courtyard and Ellya and Abelas broke apart, startled. “Get a room!” 

Ellya stared down into the darkness, her breathing heavy, and watched as Sera nudged an embarrassed-looking Harding in the ribs and pointed up towards them. “Should’ve put a bet on it. I knew she'd go for him. All old as balls and elfy.”

Ellya scrunched her eyes closed and took in a deep breath before sliding fully from Abelas’ embrace with an apologetic look. Still, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Shove off, Sera!” she called over her shoulder.

Hearing Harding drag Sera away, Ellya chuckled and drew Abelas into the shadows of the great hall, away from prying eyes.

Abelas smiled shyly and she saw the same overflowing happiness that she felt in her heart shining through in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what their kiss meant for them in the long run, but it was another change she felt she could gladly welcome. 

Slowly, she stood on her toes once again and pressed a tender kiss against his mouth. The passion simmered once more under the surface, but the kiss remained chaste. There was no rush. They would have plenty of time to explore one another, and she would be sure to do so thoroughly, but for now, Ellya was satisfied with letting the pace slow. 

Abelas pulled back and cupped her cheek, trailing his thumb across her bottom lip. She smiled at him and he smiled back, an understanding beyond words passing between them.

“I am unfamiliar with romantic entanglements.” He looked away briefly, as if embarrassed by his words. “I am unsure of how to proceed,” he admitted quietly.

Ellya bit her lip to suppress an overwhelming urge to giggle and grin. Reaching down, she took his hand in hers. “That's okay. We can take it slow.” She kissed his knuckles and drew him into a gentle embrace.

Many changes had come to Skyhold, some for the better and some not, but as she and Abelas held each other in the dark and silence of the great hall, Ellya couldn’t help but have hope. For the first time in a long while, the future looked bright and she couldn’t wait to see where it lead.


End file.
